


Time Apart

by yourebrilliant



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourebrilliant/pseuds/yourebrilliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal has something he has to do.  El and Peter try to adjust to life without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of more-funny-than-tragic h/c fics for [](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/)**rabidchild67** in return for the awesome WC/Glee crossover she's writing.

Satchmo met them at the door, wagging his tail and snuffling ‘round them, ecstatic to see them both after almost two days away. Peter rubbed his ears, and El crouched to hug him. After a moment, Satch broke away, skirting round El, padding over to the door and back to El, snuffling around them curiously.

‘He’s looking for Neal,’ El said, pressing her lips tightly together.

‘C’mon Satch,’ Peter said, hooking his fingers into Satchmo’s collar and leading him away. ‘He’s coming back, El.’

‘I know,’ El said, although her tone wavered slightly. ‘Just, not any time soon, right?’

Peter sighed, letting Satchmo out into the back garden. El had already moved into the kitchen to start dinner. ‘It’s just something he has to do, El.’

‘I know,’ she said more firmly, handing Peter a beer. Peter wrapped an arm around her.

~*~*~

**Monday**

‘Everything alright, Boss?’ Diana asked.

Peter looked over, startled by Diana’s voice. He had been staring over at Neal’s, currently unoccupied desk. It was the third time that day that he’d been halfway out of his office to ask Neal a question before he remembered that Neal was gone.

‘Yeah,’ Peter said heavily. ‘It’s fine.’

**Tuesday**

‘Honey, will you lay the table?’ El asked, handing Peter a handful of cutlery. When Peter paused, El looked over and raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s wrong?’

Peter slid two sets of knives and forks into one hand and handed her back the third set. El took them silently, returning them to the cutlery drawer as Peter quietly laid the table. As he turned back, he caught sight of her sliding a third plate back into the crockery cupboard.

**Wednesday**

‘Come on, Neal,’ Peter murmured, tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. Suddenly the door opened and El pattered down the front steps of their row house.

‘Honey,’ she said, leaning through the window, ‘what are you still doing here? Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, fine, I’m just waiting for...’ he tailed off as he realised, he was waiting for Neal. Waiting like he always did, for Neal to pick just the right tie and kiss El goodbye for the sixteenth time. ‘Never mind,’ he said, shaking his head and smiling wryly at her. ‘Have a good day, hon,’ he said, starting the engine.

El smiled wanly at him, waving sadly as he pulled away.

**Thursday**

‘Peter! Doing a white wash!’ El called. Peter clattered up the stairs to their bedroom.

‘I need, uh, the blue and white stripes for Wednesday and a plain white for-’ Peter stopped in the doorway. El was crouched in front of the laundry basket, her face buried in the folds of an elegant silver and white shirt. ‘El,’ Peter said quietly.

‘Yeah, blue and white for Wednesday,’ El said, twisting round to look at him.

Peter crossed the room and crouched beside her. ‘Honey,’ he said, wishing he had the words to make it better.

‘I know, I know,’ she said. ‘It’s something he has to do, and I support that, just, does he have to do it in _Virginia_?’

Peter smiled. ‘Well, that wasn’t really his choice, El, they call it Quantico because that’s the name of the town.’

El sighed, setting the shirt to one side. ‘I know. Well, I guess I just found a new nightshirt,’ she said, smiling up at him. Peter leaned over and gave her a kiss.

**Friday**

‘Good toy?’ El asked, over breakfast.

Peter smiled wryly and held up the silver-painted plastic sheriff’s badge that had come with his cereal. El tilted her head sympathetically.

‘Oh, honey,’ she said, reaching out to stroke a hand down his cheek.

‘I’m off to work,’ Peter said, covering her hand briefly, before standing and slipping on his suit jacket.

 

‘Okay,’ El said, as soon as Peter walked through the door, ‘I’ve got a plan.’ She was pacing back and forth in the living room, her eyes wide, looking wired. Peter slung his jacket over the arm of the couch.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly.

‘Okay, okay, so, I can leave the business with Yvonne for a while, you put in for leave – or a transfer, whatever’s fastest – and we bundle the dog in the car and drive down there. We _rent a house_ in town and you, me and Satchmo have a nice holiday in the lovely town of Quantico, Virginia.’

‘For five months,’ Peter commented, wishing her idea didn’t hold so much appeal.

‘It could work,’ El said defensively.

Peter crossed the room and took her hands in his, forcing her to stand still and look at him. ‘For five months, when we still can’t go on the base and he still can’t leave?’ he asked gently.

El huffed, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘Well, he must get free days, right? We could meet him in town or something.’

Peter reached out and tucked her against his side. ‘I know it’s hard-’ he said quietly.

‘ _Hard_?’ El questioned sharply. ‘Hard, to have him suddenly gone when we’re used to being in each other’s pockets all the time? We’ve been living together for three years, we’ve been in each other’s lives for nearly a decade more. And now, now we can’t even _call_ him?’

Peter twisted round, wrapping both arms around her, resting his forehead against her hair. ‘It’s the same for all trainees, El,’ he said, feeling her arms come up to wrap around his waist, ‘they want you focused on the work.’ Before El could respond, Peter’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. ‘Hang on,’ he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Letting her go, Peter crossed the room and slid his cell out of his suit pocket. When he saw the Caller Id, Peter started smiling.

‘Who is it?’ El asked, wiping her eyes.

‘I don’t know, El,’ Peter said, answering the phone. ‘I know for a fact,’ he continued, addressing his comments to the caller, ‘that Quantico trainees are not allowed phone calls, so the person calling me from a Virginia area code, can’t possibly be Neal Caffrey.’ El grinned and clasped her hands together under her chin. Peter waited for the response. It wasn’t until he heard the low you-got-me chuckle on the other end of the phone, that he realised how much he’d been missing it.

‘Hi, sweetie,’ El said, leaning over to be heard. Peter switched the phone to speaker and set it on the dining room table.

‘Hi, there,’ Neal said, his voice soft.

‘So,’ Peter said, more calmly than he felt, ‘how many FBI regulations have you broken to call us?’

‘None,’ Neal said, sounding proud. Peter waited, hands resting on the top of the nearest dining room chair. ‘Although,’ Neal conceded, Peter smiled wryly, ‘some of them may be a little...dented.’

‘How’s it going?’ El asked, elbowing Peter gently.

‘It’s interesting,’ Neal said, though his tone implied otherwise.

‘It’s necessary,’ Peter reminded him.

‘That too,’ Neal commented. ‘Wish you were here,’ he said quietly. ‘Or I was there.’

‘We do too, sweetie,’ El said, and Peter was relieved that she didn’t suggest her “plan” again. ‘Just hang on in there, we’ll be coming to get you soon enough.’

‘And don’t let them put you down,’ Peter said sternly, having deduced the reason for Neal’s reticence. ‘You’ve got four years of experience with the FBI, that’s more than any of them, regardless of their...qualifications.’

He could _hear_ Neal smiling. ‘I’ll tell them you said so, Peter.’ There was a rustling and Peter tried not to imagine Neal crouching to avoid an official with a flashlight. Neal sighed. ‘I’ve gotta go, need to get some sleep so I can remember all those big words tomorrow.’ Neal paused again. ‘I love you. Both of you.’

‘We love you too, sweetie,’ El said.

‘Yes, we do,’ Peter added. Neal hung up.

‘So,’ El said, after a moment, ‘he sounds...alright.’

Peter stroked a hand through her hair. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘he sounds fine. He’s probably figured out every loophole in the FBI manual by now.’ Peter tried his hardest not to be pleased at the idea of Neal running rings around the arrogant Special Agent wannabes at Quantico, but he remembered too well what it was like to be an outsider there. If this round of candidates were anything like the agents he had attended with, they deserved everything Neal would make sure they got. ‘What about us?’ he asked her quietly.

‘You mean “what about me”?’ El said, sighing.

‘That too.’

‘One week down, twenty to go?’ El suggested, heading for the kitchen. ‘Maybe we should mark it on a calendar.’

‘We could always count off the days with marks on the wall,’ Peter added, following her through. El laughed softly and he smiled at her. ‘We’ll be fine,’ he said, kissing her gently.

‘Yes we will,’ she agreed. ‘And so will Neal.’


End file.
